


My Fake Fiancé

by okaystretch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake Wedding AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Modern AU, My Fake Fiancé au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystretch/pseuds/okaystretch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern au. Bellamy and Clarke decide to stage a wedding in order to collect the gifts, but can they keep things under control?<br/>(Based off of the movie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the 100 or My Fake Fiancé (the movie)

     It’s not that Clarke hates weddings. She’s been to plenty, and even enjoyed a few of them. But it can be hard when you’re a single girl and all of your friends are married. Which is why when Octavia announced that her longtime boyfriend, Lincoln, finally proposed, Clarke was understandably less than thrilled.  
     It didn’t help that the last wedding she was invited to was her ex-boyfriend, Finn’s. Turned out he proposed to the girl he was cheating on her with. Or, the girl he was cheating on with Clarke. It was all very complicated, and Clarke didn’t go. In the end it didn’t even matter, as Clarke was destined to attend her best friend’s wedding dateless.  
     Sitting at what she’d dubbed “the loser’s table” her mood was going downhill at record speed. She knows Octavia and Lincoln mean well, but she couldn’t help but feel like she’d be better off at home watching Netflix instead.  
     The others at her table got up to dance, leaving Clarke alone with the only other man sitting down. He was attractive, slightly older then her, with dark brown hair and his place tag read Bellamy Blake. He also didn’t have a date (at least, not one she could see) and he appeared to be having about as much fun as she was.  
     “Beautiful ceremony, huh?” He asked, leaning into her slightly.  
     Clarke rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I can’t believe they used ‘Thou shalt obey’ in the vows. Who does that?”  
     Bellamy moved back to his original spot. “No need to get snippy, Princess. I was just trying to make a little small talk.”  
     Clarke rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the dance floor. “Great. They sat me next to that guy.”  
     “What do you mean that guy?” Bellamy asked.  
     “For one you’re not wearing a ring. What are you 30?” Clarke crossed her arms over the front of her black dress.  
     “Late 20’s” Bellamy muttered into his champagne glass.  
     Clarke continued, “You probably lease a really nice car you could never buy, you never cry at movies, and you only bang hot chicks.”  
     “I’m sorry Princess, have we met?” Bellamy’s voice dripped with sarcasm.  
     “No.” Clarke finished off the rest of her drink. She would need a lot more to get through the rest of this evening.  
     The conversation died, and the two of them sat silently.  
     On the dance floor, Octavia watched her best friend and her brother bicker.  
     “They’re perfect for each other” She whispered to Lincoln.

* * *

     After what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes, Bellamy spoke up again.  
     “So, why don’t you like weddings?” He asked.  
     “Oh please, it’s a fairytale.” Clarke knew she sounded like a bitter old woman, but she didn’t care. She had officially given up any optimism she may or may not have had. “Marrying the man of your dreams and living happily ever after in a gingerbread house and a field of cotton candy.”  
     Bellamy rolled his eyes, “Yummy.”  
     Clarke ignored him, continuing on her rant. “I mean, there’s no such thing as soul mates.”  
     Bellamy’s eyebrows quirked. “You mean you sleep around?”  
     “Sorry, I’m not your type.” Clarke fixed him with a glare.  
     “I don’t have a type, Princess.”  
     “You ever hear the phrase the clothes make the man?” She quickly looked him up and down. ~~For the record she was definitely not checking him out.~~  
     This time it was Bellamy’s turn to scoff. “Maybe.”  
     “Well,” She trailed off, before realizing he wanted her to continue. “Look at you. You were invited to a formal wedding, but you obviously couldn’t afford a tuxedo. So, you thought you could get away with a dark suit and a matching tie, only you don’t own a dark suit. Only a navy blue blazer which is what, ten years old? You clearly didn’t want to buy a new one and I’m going to go out on a limb and say you also just couldn’t be bothered.” She would’ve continued, but Bellamy stood up.  
     “You don’t know me,” He snapped, before leaving the table.  
     Bellamy went off to a semi-remote corner of the reception hall, checking his phone. He needed to see the final score of the game, but technology was not cooperating with him.  
     “Hey, uh, do you know the score?” He asked the bartender.  
     The bartender, or Atom, as his name tag read, shook his head.  
     “Thanks anyways.” Bellamy ran his hands over his face. He was about to give up, when he noticed Clarke sitting on her phone.  
     “You have service? May I?” He gestured at her phone.  
     “How do I know you’re not going to call a 900 number?” Clarke asked.  
     “I won’t.” Something about the way he said it, almost desperate, that made Clarke hand over her cell.  
Bellamy graciously took the phone, dialing a number and standing not to far from the table.  
     “Hey it’s me,” Bellamy whispered into the phone. “Is The Grounder there? Yeah, I know she’s looking for me. Yeah, I got to go.”  
     He hung up quickly, and handed the phone back to Clarke.  
     “So, how much do you owe?” Clarke asked, without looking up from her food.  
     “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bellamy tried to play it off, but he felt a nervous tug in his gut. Who was this girl to interrogate him like this? He would definitely give O an earful about seating him next to a grade A bitch.  
     “You don’t realize how transparent you are,” Clarke turned to him. “Either you owe money, or you’re being stalked by a ‘grounder’? What even is that?”  
     “Ok Princess, it’s The Grounder, not a grounder.” Bellamy corrected her.  
     Clarke had to stop herself from laughing. “Then how much do you owe ‘The Grounder’?”  
     “Enough.” Bellamy sighed and looked towards his baby sister. She looked happy, happier than he’d seen her in a long time. He was glad, considering he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to give her the wedding she deserved. Between their mom dying when they were young and his debt, Bellamy was thankful that Lincoln’s parents agreed to pay for most of it. Even if it forced Bellamy to swallow his pride.  
     As he looked around, Bellamy noticed the large table filled with gifts. “How big a haul do you think they’re going to take in?”  
     Clarke leaned over to him, “Have you seen the registry? Who needs a $600 towel warmer?”  
     Bellamy laughed. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing O would ask for. “People say gambling is throwing away your money.”  
     “Plus,” Clarke continued, “When I tried to get them something, all of the gifts were already taken. And you should see the pile of gifts she got at the bridal shower. I bet if you added it up over the years I’ve spent probably 20grand in wedding gifts.”  
     Bellamy shook his head. “I guess it’s supposed to be like an investment. You know, we get it all back when we get married one day”  
     “We?” Clarke laughed. “Like I’d ever marry a guy like you.”  
     “You sure, Princess?” Bellamy faked being hurt. “I was hoping we could grow old together.”  
     That officially ended the conversation, and the two of them turned their attention to the cake in front of them. Still, it got them thinking. 


	2. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy are faced with some realizations about the way their lives are going

     “Well, that’s the last of it.” Monty grunted as he placed the final box in the back of the truck.  
     “I owe you one. Moving is the worst.” Clarke pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She was covered in sweat and could already feel how sore she’d be tomorrow.  
     “You scared?” Monty asked, scrutinizing his friend’s face.  
     “I have no margin for error. I put all of my savings into this. Not to mention my mom is dying to see me fail.” Clarke sighed.  
     “She doesn’t want you to fail. She’s just pissed she spent all that money on med school and you aren’t even going to be a doctor.” Monty replied.  
     “Well it was med school or no school. It’s not like she gave me a choice.” Clarke rolled her eyes. She had to practically beg her mother to let her take even one art class. From now on Clarke was determined to be her own person.  
     Clarke threw a longing glance towards the apartment building. “You know, I’m really going to miss this place. Seven years, three ex’s, four crash diets-“  
     “That last one nearly killed me, and Jasper wouldn’t even go near you for about a month.” Monty laughed, shaking his head at the memory of cabbage and egg smoothies.  
     Clarke smiled and the two of them walked back into the apartment.  
     “I’m going to run to the bathroom, give me a minute?” Monty asked.  
     “Yeah, I’m just going to take one last look around.” Clarke said, heading towards the window.  
     “Aren’t you moving into Octavia and Lincoln’s building?” Monty asked from down the hallway.  
     “Yeah, they helped me find the apartment. The building’s called The Ark, and it’s supposed to be really nice.” Clarke called back, wandering the empty rooms.  
     “It better be for what you’re paying. At least they can help us unload on the other end.”  
     Clarke laughed, and picked up a lone box sitting by the kitchen. “Don’t you wish. They’re still on their honeymoon. Is Jasper going to make an appearance?”  
     “He conveniently had other plans.” Monty came out of the bathroom and made his way to the front door.  
     “Uh, Clarke?” He asked, staring out into the yard.  
     “Looks like we’ll be doing all the heavy lifting,” Clarke stated.  
     “Maybe not,” Monty muttered. “Can I show you something?”  
     Clarke walked out the door, not sure what to expect. What she found, or rather didn’t find, was the moving truck.  
     “There’s a slight possibility I left the keys in the ignition,” Monty cringed. Where the truck had previously been was now an empty space.  
     Clarke turned to glare at her friend, “You are no longer my gay roommate.”

* * *

 

     Clarke walked into her new, unfurnished, apartment with exactly one box and no friends. She asked Monty to give her some space considering she didn’t need any help unpacking. She knew he felt bad, and she would let him know she forgave him in the morning, but for now she just wanted to wallow in her self-pity.  
     “Please be the coffee maker,” She muttered sitting on the floor with her box. She opened it to find, not her coffee maker, put some brightly colored throw pillows. She sighed, and tossed the pillows around the empty room.  
     One day into her big move, and she had already fallen flat on her face.

* * *

 

     Bellamy Blake was sitting in his, admittedly run-down, apartment when door was kicked. Two guys, Murphy and Roan if Bellamy remembers correctly, entered glaring at him.  
     “The Grounder sends her regards” Roan cracked his knuckles.  
     “Fellas, how sweet,” Bellamy hopped up from his place on the couch. “You decided to stop by. Though a phone call would’ve sufficed.”  
     “Yeah, yeah.” Murphy cut him off. “Do you have something for us?”  
     “You have to tell The Grounder I need more time,” Bellamy said.  
     The two men shared a look and step closer towards Bellamy.  
     “Guys come on,” He took a step back. “There’s got to be a choice. There’s always a choice right?”  
     “Yeah, like we can leave you in here on the floor in a crumpled mess, or outside on the ground in a crumpled mess,” Roan suggested, smiling viciously.  
     “Those the only choices?” Bellamy asked.  
     He barely got the question out before Murphy punched him in the stomach. Bellamy doubled over, coughing.  
     “That is a bad cough my friend, you better get that checked out.” Murphy laughed, stepping back. “Now you better have the money next week or –”  
     “Yeah, I got it.” Bellamy cut him off. “You guys are really a cliché, you know that?”  
     “We are not,” Roan argued.  
     “Are too.” Bellamy replied, teeth gritted.  
     “Are not,” Murphy said defensively. “Let’s get out of here.”  
     The two of them left, leaving Bellamy to wonder what the hell he was going to do. 


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy figure out a way for them to both get what they want

     The next day Clarke headed to the nearest mall. She had written a list of some of the essentials (coffee maker included) on a piece of cardboard and decided to see how much it would cost. She had just walked into an appliance store when one of the sales ladies approached her.  
     “Congratulations,” She greeted Clarke with a wide smile.  
     “Excuse me?” Clarke asked.  
     “Oh, well I couldn’t help but notice,” The lady pointed at Clarke’s makeshift list. “You know there’s an easier way to do that.”  
     Clarke stared at the woman with confusion as she was given a handheld scanner.  
     “You just choose what you want, aim the gun at the barcode, and scan. It’s a lot more fun.” She walked away, leaving Clarke standing there. She cautiously scanned the item next to her, a silverware set, and laughed. This was definitely more fun.  
     Clarke went through the store, scanning all kinds of things. Everything she needed, and even some she probably didn’t, were hit with the scanner.  
     By the time she was done and had scanned everything she could possibly fit in her apartment, the sales lady from earlier approached her.  
     “Here you go,” She said, handing Clarke a packet of papers. The page greeted her with a total price of nearly $25,000 and Clarke’s face fell. “You know what they say. It pays to get married.”  
     Clarke smiled politely at the miscommunication and headed out of the store.

     That night Clarke sat her floor going through her bills. Each envelope greeted her with more and more expenses. She sat there feeling miserable for herself, when all of a sudden she was stuck with an idea.  
     She called Octavia, not expecting to get an answer and left a voicemail.  
     “Hey it’s me. Look, there was a guy at the wedding, I think his name was Bellamy? Well, we were talking and I have some information for him. No big deal, but if you could call me back with his number that’d be great. Thanks.”  
     Clarke hung up the phone and stared at the screen for a few minutes. She knew Octavia probably wouldn’t get back to her for a while, and she was afraid that if she waited she would chicken out of her plan. Then she remembered that Bellamy had used her number to call this grounder person. She scrolled through her recent calls.  
     “Hi is, uh, grounder there?” She asked when the person on the other end picked up.  
     “It’s The Grounder,” A feminine voice replied.  
     “What? The Grounder? You’re the kidding right?” Clarke asked.  
     “No I’m not kidding. Who is this?” The Grounder snapped.  
     “Oh sorry,” Clarke shrugged. “Look, A guy named Bellamy called you the other day from my phone and I really need to talk to him but I don’t have his number.”  
     “Fine. I’ll give it to you” The Grounder sighed.  
     “Oh, thank you. You’re very The Kind.” The other voice threatened to hang up before Clarke promised not to joke anymore. Then Clarke grabbed her pen, and wrote down the number of the one person who was probably more desperate than her.

* * *

 

     “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d call.” Bellamy approached Clarke. She had asked him to meet her for lunch, which was surprising considering how their conversation at the wedding went. “In fact, I didn’t think you liked me.”  
     “I don’t” Clarke stated matter-of-factly.  
     “Well, I don't like you either Princess.” He said when she didn't continue speaking.  
     “Great,” Clarke smiled. She grabbed her back and walked towards one of the outdoor tables. “Lunch?”  
     The two of them sat down, and Clarke told him about her last couple of days. She talked about how she’d spent all of her money, and how the truck with all of her belongings was stolen, and the fact she’s sleeping on a wooden floor with three throw pillows.  
     “Well, did you put it on a credit card? Maybe the credit card insurance will pay for it.” Bellamy suggested. He may not like Clarke, but it sounded like she was in a crappy situation.  
     “I checked. The truck is covered but not what was in it.” Clarke sighed and took a sip of water.  
     “That’s too bad.” Bellamy was used to being screwed over by credit companies and the like. He’d been having money problems for basically his entire life. “You know, I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”  
     “I was thinking about something you said at the wedding. About how the money we put into wedding gifts is like a savings account. Well, I have to make a withdrawal.” Clarke looked at Bellamy with a serious expression. She knew the idea sounded insane, but she didn’t have very many options.  
     “I’m in.” Bellamy replied without hesitation.  
     “What –” Clarke attempted to speak but Bellamy cut her off.  
     “I’m in. I love it. It’s perfect.” He sat back in his chair. “We stage a fake wedding. Invite everyone we know. You register for all of the stuff you want to replace and I get to keep all the cash. It’s perfect.”  
     He stopped, then added, “How long do we have to stay married in order to keep the gifts?”  
     “So you think it’s a good idea?” Clarke asked dubiously.  
     “You know what else we could do?” Bellamy continued, “We turn all of the gifts into cash, take the money down to the tracks, double or triple it-” He stopped himself.  
     Clarke stared at him, nodding slightly before calling, “Check please!” She stood up, reaching into her bag. “This isn’t going to work. Wedding’s off.”  
     “Wow talk about commitment issues. You’re getting cold feet over our pretend wedding.” Bellamy stared at her with an expression that was a mix between shocked and pissed.  
     Clarke was about to respond when her phone went off.  
     “Hello? You’re kidding, where? I’ll be right there.” Clarke hung up the phone and turned back towards Bellamy. “Have a nice life,” She smiled and bolted out of the restaurant.  
     Bellamy stood up and began walking after her. “Wait a minute. What about the money? Your furniture? Our love?”

     Clarke didn’t turn around, and instead drove off to a sketchy part of the city she would never go to normally. When she got there she was greeted with the sight of two police officers surrounding an abandoned moving truck.  
     Clarke raced out of her car, and opened the back of the truck. Instead of being filled with her stuff, however, the back was nearly completely empty. All that was left was one box tucked in a back corner.  
     Clarke willed herself to go over to it, holding to one small shred of hope.  
     “Be the coffee maker. Be the coffee maker.” She chanted under her breath, ripping of the tape. Instead she pulled out even more throw pillows and heard Bellamy Blake’s voice behind her.  
     “So, you thinking DJ or band?” He asked. 


	4. Just So We're Clear

     When they finally made it back to Clarke’s apartment, they spent hours combing through every stereotypical bridal magazine they were able to scrounge up. Finally, Clarke found what they were looking for.  
     “Here it is,” She called out, and Bellamy stepped closer to her so he could read over her shoulder. “’Invited guests have an obligation to send a gift, whether they are attending or not.’”  
     “Seriously? That is—That is awesome.” Bellamy peered closely at the article, making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. _This might actually work_. “We need to invite everyone that we know. In fact, we should invite everyone that we’ve ever met. Especially the rich ones.”  
     Clarke put the magazine down on the counter and turned to look at him. She couldn’t tell if he was messing with her or if he was really just that stupid.  
     “You know what, I spilled coffee once on that Trump asshole. Why don’t we send a couple of invites to the whole family. See what happens,” Bellamy continued.  
     “Brilliant,” Clarke rolled her eyes.  
     “Thank you.” Bellamy smirked in return. He wasn’t being serious, of course, but he liked the way he could make that vein in her neck bulge.  
     Clarke shook her head and turned back towards the magazine. “Just so we’re clear, here’s the plan. We announce our engagement, we send out invitations, and then just before the wedding we call it off. I keep all of the gifts for my apartment and you keep all the cash to pay off your debt.”  
     “It’s perfect,” Bellamy agreed. “Plus, you know the girls love a guy who’s been left at the altar.”  
     “Wow,” Clarke frowned. “I just hope people will buy that I’ve actually lowered my standards this much.”  
     “Ha-ha,” Bellamy mock-laughed. “I’m sure they will.”  
     Just as Clarke was about to hit him with the magazine he continued talking, “So, what does it say in there about calling it off? I need to know how long we need to keep this charade up. I really need to pay off The Grounder.”  
     Clarke skimmed the text. “Oh no. ‘If the couple calls off their engagement prior to the wedding, all gifts must be promptly returned.’”  
     “So, so wait a minute. What does that mean?” Bellamy stared at the bolded line. “We actually have to go through with it?”  
     Clarke took a deep breath. If she wasn't so desperate, so completely at rock bottom, she would’ve called the whole thing off then and there. But she was. “Apparently so.”  
     “You and I are broke, we can’t afford a wedding,” Bellamy argued. Already the holes in their plan were beginning to show.  
     “Yes, we can.” Clarke interrupted him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We pretend we’re planning a wedding, but then as the date approaches, we get overwhelmed with the details and have to elope. It’s perfect. We get the gifts, but without the wedding.”  
     Bellamy thought it over for a second. “It could work.”  
     “It will work,” Clarke had no doubts that this would fail. She literally couldn't afford it too. “All we have to do is convince people we’re in love.”  
     They both took the opportunity to give the other a once over.  
     “Oh god,” They muttered in unison.  
     Clarke started walking towards the other end of her empty living room, leaving Bellamy alone by the counters.  
     “No, you know what. We can do this. We just have to make up a story about our whirlwind romance,” Clarke shoved aside one of her throw pillows to sit on the ground.  
     “Yeah, like how I swept you off your feet with my dashing good looks.” Bellamy took a seat on the floor in the kitchen.  
     “Or something believable,” Clarke called over to him.  
     Bellamy scoffed. “What, like your effervescent charm?”  
     “No,” Clarke rolled her eyes again. She’d been doing that a lot since she met Bellamy. “Like, we bonded over something we have in common. Now what do we have in common?”  
     Bellamy could swear he heard crickets chirping in the next few seconds as they wracked their brains for what that might be.  
     “Any ideas?” He asked.  
     “Not a one,” Clarke sighed.  
     Bellamy nodded, and they went back to silence.  



	5. One Night

     Bellamy and Clarke spent another few hours going over all the details. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and their plan was far from perfect, but they’d left rational discussion behind over an hour ago and had resorted to a screaming match. Finally, Bellamy had enough and decided to head back to his place for the remainder of the night.

     He’d cut through a back ally, and was just about to hop the fence for his yard, when he heard two gruff voices coming from behind it.

     “He’d better get here soon,” Murphy grumbled. “If I miss Desperate Housewives for this, he’s going to be missing a finger.”

     “Cliché, cliché. C-L-E-E-S-H-A-Y,” Roan was flipping through the pages of a dictionary he’d no doubt pilfered from inside Bellamy’s house. “I can’t find it.”

     “Shit,” Bellamy cursed under his breath, letting go of the fence. He booked it in the other direction, hoping the goons hadn’t noticed him.

     He made it back to Clarke’s apartment and began frantically ringing the buzzer for her to let him in.

     “Hello?” A very irritated, scratchy voice came from the speaker.

_I must’ve woken her up_ , Bellamy realized. “Honey, I’m home.”

     “Did you leave something here?” Clarke asked. “Like, maybe your pride?”

     Bellamy shook his head at the dig, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from rising. “Just let me in.”

     “I’m in my pajamas”

     “Oh, how exciting. But seriously, it’s freezing out here.” Bellamy pressed the buzzer again, this time just to annoy her. Probably not the best idea, considering he wanted her to open the door, but he couldn’t help himself. “Let me in or I’m calling off the wedding.”

     “Ughhh” He could hear her sigh. But it was followed by a click, and the opening of the door into her building.

* * *

 

     “No. No. No. No. And did I mention, NO.” Clarke stood with her arms folded.

     “Oh, come on— “Bellamy began, but Clarke kept talking.

     “That was not part of the deal. You cannot stay here.”

     “Do you remember The Grounder?” Bellamy asked, his own irritation creeping into his voice.

     “Yeah, who could forget?” Clarke sighed.

     “Well right now, there are two lackeys outside my apartment waiting for me. Do you want to become a widow before you ever get your gifts?”

     “Have you ever heard of these things called friends?” Marrying Bellamy was one thing, but Clarke could not imagine actually having to live with him. “They come in really handy at times like this.”

     “I have a lot of friends, thank you very much,” Bellamy paused. “I just owe them all money.”

     “Oh wow. You’re living the dream,” Clarke pressed her fingertips to her temples.

     Bellamy sighed, lowering his voice to an almost plea. “Clarke, it’ll be one night. You won’t even know I’m here.”

     “Fine,” Clarke caved. “One. Night.” She raised a gloved hand to clearly illustrate that she meant one.

     Bellamy’s relief was briefly overshadowed by his surprise at the flash of white. “What’s with the gloves, Minnie Mouse?”

     “Uh, they’re moisturizing gloves,” Clarke rolled her eyes, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

     Bellamy shook his head in disbelief. _This girl really is crazy_ , he thought.

     Clarke turned away from him, and made her way towards her throw-pillow-bed she’d made on the floor.

     “Probably a good idea at your age,” He laughed.

     “At my age? You’re older than me you— “Clarke stopped herself before she revived their early fight. It was going to be a long night.

     Bellamy smiled, and situated himself in an appropriately distanced spot on the floor.


End file.
